


184. bliss

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [71]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Camping, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both watch in silence as the marshmallow swells, vengeful and charred; just before it’s about to pop Helena pulls it out of the fire, pops it on a graham cracker, slaps chocolate and another graham cracker on, and swallows it whole. This is one fluid motion. Sarah thinks the marshmallow is still on fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	184. bliss

In the middle of the woods, the crickets are singing; it’s nearly the only sound, just that and the crackle of the campfire. Sarah turns her marshmallow around and around on its stick, trying to get it golden. She looks across the fire, and—

“Helena, that’s – _black_ ,” she says.

“I know,” Helena says peacefully. “It tastes better like this.” They both watch in silence as the marshmallow swells, vengeful and charred; just before it’s about to pop Helena pulls it out of the fire, pops it on a graham cracker, slaps chocolate and another graham cracker on, and swallows it whole. This is one fluid motion. Sarah thinks the marshmallow is still on fire. She isn’t going to check, though – hell, it’s not _her_ tastebuds burning off.

“I love s’mores,” Helena says wistfully. “I love them. I don’t want to go back to the city. We should all stay at _sestra_ Alison’s cabin forever. Making s’mores.”

Sarah doesn’t say _you can make s’mores anywhere, meathead, there are stoves_ because she does not _actually_ want Alison’s house to burn down. She just pulls out her marshmallow and assembles her s’more. “Tell Alison you wanna stay here, then,” she says. “Live on s’mores, it’s probably ‘bout as deadly as that stuff you call stew.”

“It’s _good stew_ ,” Helena says, in the voice Alison makes when you insult her crafting abilities.

“There was an eyeball in mine,” Sarah says, taking a bite of her s’more.

Helena makes an offended noise. “There was not!” she says. “You made that up, to scare _sestra_ Cosima. I heard you. You are why she left to go find pizzas in the woods.”

“Maybe,” Sarah says through a mouthful of marshmallow. Her eyes close without her say-so. Helena is not wrong: s’mores are good, s’mores are better when you are out in the woods and it’s cold and you are with people you care about. She and Cal made them once; the taste brings that flooding back, what it was to feel – for a brief time – safe.

Her eyes open again. Helena is watching her thoughtfully from across the fire, looking vaguely ridiculous in the hand-knitted hat she’s wearing. Why Alison thought to give her a pom-pom Sarah does not know.

“What are you thinking about?” Helena says.

“Last time I had a s’more,” Sarah says, and twists the remnants of her s’more around and around in her hands. It’s getting her fingers sticky, but she can’t keep still for long and so this will have to do.

“Oh,” Helena says, sounding disappointed. “I was thinking about the last time we went camping. Just the two of us.” When Sarah looks up, Helena is prodding the fire with a stick and feigning huge amounts of interest in her own progress. Her shoulders are slumped.

“Wait, I forget,” Sarah says. “That when you made me think there was a bloody wolf outside the tent and then farted in my face? It was that, yeah?”

Helena giggles, a choky little sound. “Yes,” she says. Then her grin drops off her face, with the suddenness of a plate shattering on the ground.

“That was the most fun I had ever had,” she says. “Ever in my life.”

“Oh,” Sarah says, and: “really?” The last word is a plea for Helena to take that back, and she hates how nakedly it comes through.

“Yes,” Helena says. Her voice is stubborn. Then she rolls words around her mouth, and adds: “But I have had more fun. Since then.”

“Good,” Sarah says, relieved. “I’m glad. You’re with family now, yeah? Loads of fun times.”

“Many loads,” Helena says seriously, and then: “give me the marshmallows.”

Sarah blinks, a little thrown-off by the rapid change in topic. She guesses Helena’s just – done, done talking about it. “No,” she says. “You’re gonna burn your bloody throat, meathead.”

“I will not,” Helena says. “I have a throat of steel and an iron belly.” She makes a grabby hand gesture. She looks about three seconds away from climbing through the fire to get the marshmallows; Sarah sighs, snags one out of the bag and pops it into her mouth before throwing the bag over to Helena.

Helena cheerily stuffs four marshmallows into her mouth and puts two more on her stick.

“Don’t choke,” Sarah says.

“Har-grawh,” Helena says through her mouthful of marshmallows. She goes back to watching the fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Tomorrow all the sisters will take bets on how many marshmallows Helena can fit in her mouth. She surpasses all expectations. Cosima records a video and sends it to Art, who does not believe it's real.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
